Dragot paced in circles impatiently as he waited for the completion of the gates. Addel had worked through the night as she had been instructed. Dragot whirled his head around when she peeked her head from his private chamber. “Are you finished? Is it done?” he roared in what seemed close to panic.
She looked at him wearily with heavy eyelids. “Yes, they are done. One leads to—”
He threw her aside with the back of his hand and stormed into the chamber. There before him were two large shiny mirrors embedded on opposite walls. One displayed an image of the cryton village in the dead forest, while the other showed the city of Taron in all its glory. His roar of victory could be heard echoing off the walls and rattling through the castle.
Addel hobbled down to her room and threw herself on the old, dingy mattress. The shame and guilt burning through her gut far outweighed the extreme exhaustion. She had aided in the demise of her own kind. If this Eric Aethello really was the Gate Keeper, she had aided in crippling his chances as well. Her body convulsed with uncontrollable sobbing as the searing guilt became overwhelming. She had even used power given to her by a source of pure evil. I don’t deserve to live.